


Conquering The Darkness

by Kotik



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coming of Age, Disabled Character, F/M, Romance, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kotik/pseuds/Kotik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is a highly gifted if somewhat nerd-ish and inexperienced young boy. But when he encounters a young girl in distress, his life changes in ways he would never have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Abandoned

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever original work and it is inspired by many works of people, who have produced great pieces of writing just for the love of it. The sadly no longer active Frank Downey, Nick Scipio or the great Karen Wagner spring to mind. It also contains some autobiographic elements. 
> 
> All persons, names and events (with the exception of geographic places) in this story are entirely fictional and similarities to living or dead persons are entirely coincidental and unintended.

He was tired, but travelling late this weekend was definitely preferable to sitting in a train full of drunken football fans for three hours. As his bad luck would have it, today the home town club had played FC Cologne and Cologne was where he was heading as well. Four hours of trying to avoid being accosted by wasted hooligans was simply not his idea of fun, especially when you had to pay a 100 Euro fare for the privilege. 

Those home games of Hannover 96 were a pain in the back side. As if the home fans weren’t bad enough, the visiting teams always came with a whole army of ‘supporters’ who tried their utmost to reverse human evolution. Seriously, what was the point in travelling halfway across the country, just to miss half the game because you were already sodding drunk before kick-off?

Dragging his trolley bag or ‘Heel-Porsche’, as they were colloquially named, along he made his way to the designated smoker’s area. The state had done its utmost to criminalize smokers, despite making copious amounts of tobacco tax off them, so a small five-by-five meters area at the far end of the platform was the only place where one could smoke without getting nicked.

He inhaled the smoke of his cigarette looking out over the city. Yes, there were many houses around, but at 2100 in the evening it was hard to believe that this place was home to half a million people. Except for a few stragglers the platform was practically empty. The sun had long started to set and the sky was a dark blue canvas with dark grey intermittent clouds painted on it. In the distance the beacon light of a plane flashed as the craft hurtled down the glide scope towards Langenhagen airport.

As he puffed another small cloud of smoke from his lungs he heard a quiet sobbing. First it was hard to make out from where it was coming, but soon he’d come to the conclusion that the sound originated even further down the long platform and he already was well past the spot where the train would stop. Nobody in his right mind would go that far down the platform unless one of those ridiculously long triple traction trains was arriving and those didn't appear more than once or twice a year.

He flicked the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and went to investigate the sound. Since he was already close to the end of the platform he didn't have to walk very far until he saw a young girl sitting on the ground, her back leaning against a pillar that held the platform roof.

Despite the fact that he was standing right in front of her, the girl didn't seem to recognize him. She wore a light summer dress that had become dirty from her sitting on the ground and even though her crying was distorting her face he could see that she was very beautiful. Her eyes were hidden behind ridiculous dark sunglasses, which appeared somewhat misplaced, but then he saw the yellow armband with the three black circles on it – the girl was blind.

He crouched down in front of her and spoke softly.

“Don’t be alarmed. I mean no harm.”

She flinched despite his best efforts, but quickly composed herself. Her hands ventured forward in search of what was in front of her. He had no idea how to deal with a blind person. Following an impulse the young man gently grabbed her wrists and directed her hands to his face. He closed his eyes as her fingertips glided across his features.

She started to cry even harder.

“I thought nobody would help me,” she lamented. “I've been here for hours and nobody came. Please, help me.”

“Of course I’ll help you,” he said. “Can you stand?”

She nodded.

He grabbed her hand and helped her stand up.

“What happened?”

“There were people,” she said, still sobbing. “Loud and drunk. They kicked away my white cane, stole my luggage, my wallet. A few of them dragged me here. I don’t know where I am, I didn't find the way back. I only lost my sight two years... I didn't... I couldn't... and nobody was helping...”

Her sobs got harder and harder and for lack of better idea he gathered her in his arms. She hugged him back and he gently rocked her as she cried. For many minutes they stood in close embrace until she had composed herself, at least somewhat.

“How do I guide you?” he asked. “I’m afraid I’ve not got any experience with that.”

“Can you give me your arm?”

He put his hand on his hip and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Like that?”

She smiled faintly. It felt a bit strange seeing that she was ‘looking’ past his face, but then, how should a blind person know where his face was exactly?

“What about your luggage?” she asked when they started walking.

“I’ll leave that here,” he snorted. “Either they’ll think it’s a bomb and blow it up, or if anyone’s so stupid to steal it, he’ll have to keep it as a punishment.”

She laughed softly and his heart melted. It was the sweetest sound he’d heard in his life.

“Attention, rolling stairs,” he said. “three, two, one, now...”

She did a step forward and they started to travel downwards.  Since he didn't know when to start the countdown when getting off, he just lifted her up and stepped off, eliciting a small giggle from her.

“You live here in Hannover?” he asked?

“Hemmingen, Berlin street. We moved here a year ago.”

“Okay, I'm gonna take you home,” he promised and she smiled again. It was a magnificent sight. 

* * *

 “I can’t thank you enough,” the older man across the table said, clearly emotional. “Andrea’s been having a hard time and people are so insensitive these days. What’s your name son?”

“Martin, Martin Reichelt. I can’t believe they did that to her.”

“Where were you going Martin? You must have missed your train by now.” 

“Cologne. I'm attending high school there.”

“High school so far from home? Special Classes?” the man asked and the younger man nodded. It was surprising to meet someone who knew the classes for the highly gifted that were run by Cologne university.

“So you’re a little genius, hm? My brother went there too. He was so good at maths he’d have embarrassed Einstein.”

“Frankly, you’d have embarrassed Einstein, sir,” Martin said. “Old Albert wasn't very good at it, at least in school.”

The older man smiled.

“Tell you what,” he said. “The last train is gone, but at this time the Autobahn is empty. I’ll give you a ride to Cologne. Andrea will stay here for the week. I want her to talk to a therapist after what happened to her, and we’ll definitely need to report this to the police.”

“It’s a generous offer, Sir, but it will take you at least six hours there and back. Don’t you need to work tomorrow?”

The older man put his hand on his shoulder. “I'm my own boss, son, and I've just given myself the day off tomorrow.”

They both chuckled.

“Can I say goodbye to her?” the younger man asked and her father nodded.

“Her room is the last one to the right. Just don’t wake her up if she’s sleeping. You know how rough her day’s been.”

The young man nodded back and walked out into the corridor. The residence was quite big, certainly bigger than anything his family had ever lived in, but then his dad was just a taxi driver and no entrepreneur who could give himself a day off. Without the scholarship he could never have attended the school in Cologne and would be bored out of his skull in a regular high school.

He gently opened the door to her room and noticed that it looked like any other teenager’s room, except that all furniture had rounded edges and corners. But his attention was drawn to her when he heard her quietly sobbing. It wasn't as heartbreaking as her crying when he’d found her at the train station, but it still made his heart cramp with compassion.

He carefully sat down on the edge of her bed.

“Hey, no need to cry, you’re safe now,” he said softly, trying not to startle her in case she hadn't heard him come in.

She shot up. Her hand hit his face as she was frantically searching for him. The young man ignored the pain in his nose and gently gathered her in his arms.

“Oh god, I had thought you’d gone without saying goodbye,” her crying got harder as he held her. He gently rubbed her back to soothe her.

“I would never do that. Your dad offered me a drink in the kitchen. Sorry, I should have let you know.”

He needed all his strength not to cry himself. Her weeping was heart wrenching. He wasn't very experienced with girls, in fact he had absolutely no clue about them, but he’d always thought that for girls as beautiful as the one in his arms everything was just peachy and they’d always get what they want. Well Andrea certainly had a much harder life than others.

“Will you be okay for the night?” he asked after a while. “Your dad has offered me a ride to Cologne.”

She nodded, her head still resting against his chest. He took a deep breath and asked the question he’d been pondering for a while.

“Um, C-can I pick you up next Sunday? We could go to Cologne together.”

“That would be so great,” she mumbled into his chest and he felt her hug tighten a bit. But he had to go and he gently pushed her down and tucked her in. He caressed her cheek and she leaned her head into his touch.

“I’ll call you,” he whispered and stood to go before the emotions would get to him.

He wiped away a tear as he closed a door with a final good night wish.

* * *

His thoughts were still with the young girl as the car sped past Porta Westfalica. It was a brand new Volkswagen Phaeton, the one with the monstrous W12 engine, testament to the fact that Andrea’s father was not only an entrepreneur, but apparently a rather successful one as well. It still had that typical new car smell to it and the luxurious interior marked it out as one of the top-end models. It was not so much a car ride but more like being carried in a very luxurious sedan chair.

His luggage thankfully had not been blown up, but they had had to fetch it from the federal police office where it had been screened. The officer had almost slapped him with a fine until the man in the driver’s seat had told them _why_ he had abandoned it. In fact they had immediately taken the young man’s statement on the matter as the girl’s father reported the crime officially. They’d promised to send an officer round the next day to take Andrea’s statement.

“Sir, may I ask what happened to Andrea? She said something about losing her sight only two years ago.”

The expression of the older man’s face darkened and Martin was wondering if he had asked the wrong question.

“I've not always driven such a large car,” the man said pulling slightly at the steering wheel for emphasis. “But now I do, because they are safer. Andrea and her mother had an accident two years ago. She was fifteen then. My wife was dead immediately and Andrea had life-threatening head injuries. She was in a coma for three weeks. She was in hospital for nine months, but no matter what the doctors tried and still try, she’ll almost certainly remain blind.”

An awkward silent fell between them for a few minutes.

“I'm very sorry to hear that, especially about your wife.”

The older man just nodded and looked straight ahead at the road. Suddenly he surprised him with a question of his own.

“You like Andrea, don’t you?”


	2. Stadium Announcement

He stepped out of the dorm squinting his eyes. It was a beautiful late April day, but he was so tired, the bright sunlight hurt in his eyes. There was none of the usual hectic activity as all his fellow students were already in their lessons.  He had left a short email notice with his class teacher that he’d miss the morning classes as he had to run some errands resulting from a criminal complaint, which he’d inform him about upon his return.

It would perhaps lead to some discussion why he’d not done that beforehand and in person, but at the moment his thoughts were too focused on not disappointing Andrea and her father. The promise to deliver the copy of her father’s police statement, together with the official certificate from the federal police, was one he was not going to postpone.

The blind school was not very far from the university campus. Three stations by tram were all it took to get there. This was great as he could visit Andrea easily if she would be agreeable to the idea.

Stepping into the building he noticed it was not so different from a normal school building. The major difference was that the floor had tactile paving and that all signs next to the door had additional markings in Braille.

He knocked on the door to the principal’s office and walked in when he was called in. Even in here the floor had markings so that a blind pupil would find the way to the desk with a white cane. It was much larger than the office in his school and just about all furniture was behind or next to the desk, so anyone who came in here could not bump into anything.

From the way the middle aged woman behind the desk looked at him, he could work out that she wasn't blind. The principal smiled friendly at him and returned his greeting.

“What can I do for you, Martin?”

“Well, I have these papers from Andrea Hertz’s father. She was mugged yesterday by a bunch of FC hooligans and he wants to keep her home for the week.”

He had never seen a smile disappear so quickly. The principal hectically thumbed through the papers and red the summary of the criminal complaint she rubbed her eyes and shook her head more and more disbelieving the further she read.

“Have you found her?” she asked and he could see nothing but naked shock and sadness in the woman’s eyes.

He nodded and sat down when he was indicated to do so. The woman behind the desk served him a glass of mineral water and seemed to measure him up.

“That was a very nice thing to do, Martin.”

He shrugged. “With all due respect ma’am, but who would ignore a person in need of help, except perhaps the assholes that put her in that situation?”

He gasped and apologized for his choice of words.

“As the principal of this school I don’t condone swearing, but frankly, in this case I too would struggle to find a printable word.”

She smiled mildly at him, but it wasn't hard to see that it was a little forced. She was still rattled by the news.

“To answer your question, Martin, you’d be surprised how many people have not helped her. Do you really think you've been the first to notice her in several hours, on a train station that big? And what about those who didn't interfere when she was assaulted? When you and Andrea are in a public space next time, observe how many people give her a wide berth. Many are downright afraid of disabled persons, mainly because they have no idea what to do.”

He wondered why the principal assumed that he and Andrea would even meet again. But perhaps it was etched on his face how much she occupied his thoughts; after all her dad had called him out on it as well.

“May I ask a question, ma’am?”

The woman nodded.

“There is one thing I don’t understand. Why did she stay where they’d brought her? Couldn't she have tried, I don’t know, getting at least somewhat further down the platform for help? It easy for me to say, but I’d have tried something like taking of my shoes and try to find my way along the tactile paving.”

The woman’s mien got serious again.

“It’s not so easy, Martin. Andrea has been sighted for fifteen years. She _knows_ what a train station looks like. But only those she’d been to while she could still see. A person who was born blind see’s the world differently, more abstract. She was at a train station and her mind was trying to compare what she felt to images she knows. People who lose sight after many years have much more problems mastering their lives. That’s why Andrea is here. Our school is specialized in people who lost sight long after they were born.”

He could understand the reasoning.

“There is something else, something much more sinister,” the principal continued. “Whoever did that, was someone who had knowledge about the specific problems of blind people. It is likely they deliberately disorientated her. Just spinning around someone can be a huge problem for a blind person, especially if she’s still as inexperienced as Andrea.”

He jumped up from his chair, knocking it over in the process. He rubbed his face furiously trying not to scream with the murderous rage that boiled up in his body. He was a peaceful person to the point that he could make a fluffy bunny look dangerous, but right now he wanted nothing more than get his hands on those bastards, preferably their necks.

Out of sheer fury he started to cry.

* * *

She had been a principal for many years, but she had never heard about such a vile act against one of her pupils. Marita Korsch, a seasoned teacher had enough problems not to follow the young man’s example. He was pacing her office, his face a distorted grimace of pure rage, quietly sobbing into his palms.

The mother in her wanted to stand up and console the boy, but the pedagogue knew it was best to leave him alone. He couldn't be older than sixteen or seventeen and at that age they had to be given a chance to ‘be a man’ even if crying was not considered manly, at least by young men themselves.  She gave him the time to compose himself and she could see he was ashamed of his reaction.

“Sorry, Mrs. Korsch, I've let the emotions get to me.”

She smiled.

“You don’t need to apologize, Martin. If I could afford to I’d be running out of here screaming and swearing till the windows burst.”

His teary smile made the young man even more endearing.

“It is truly horrible what those people did to her, but if I'm not mistaken, Andrea has won a new friend and that will be the only thing she’ll remember about it one day.”

His flustered reaction was really cute. Somehow this young man was not like many other teenagers she’d seen in her professional life. He was much more introspective and perceptive for a start.

“I don’t know if she even wants to be friends. Wouldn't I just remind her constantly of what she’d lost? After all I can still see and she’d be reminded of it every time we meet.”

“Andrea has many problems,” Marita explained. “But those are of a practical nature. She still has to learn a lot in terms of mastering her life. But she has accepted her situation. Trust me; we have many pupils who aren't as accepting of their fate as Andrea is. Sometimes she’s actually too ambitious. I've told her more than once that it is too early to be travelling from Hannover all by herself.”

“Don’t worry ma’am. She won’t. I’ll bring her here and back safely - come hell or high water.”

The principal smiled at him. Somehow she got the feeling that with time young Andrea would be getting much more than just a friend out of this horrible day.

* * *

Bernd Hertz was not an emotional man by anyone’s standards, but when it came to his daughter he could not help it. At the moment he was a very worried man. On one hand Andrea had taken the aftermath of the assault much better than expected, in fact the psychotherapist had confirmed as much. It wasn't difficult to work out that the reason for that had a name – Martin.

The fact that his daughter had spent most of her evenings on the phone – at least an hour every day – was testament to that fact. But that was where the worry came into play. It wasn't difficult to see that both children were hopelessly smitten with each other, but they were both sixteen and seventeen respectively. He couldn't help but being worried that they were setting themselves up for a nasty fall.

Andrea was a stunningly beautiful girl and she had had more than enough friends before the accident. Too bad most of them had been false ones. Except for her former classmates Michaela and Nicole, all of them had abandoned her. And young Martin would see soon enough that dealing with a blind person would not be as easy as the theory suggested.

It began with mundane things like not being able to go to the movies. Everything they’d do for recreational activities would have to be chosen in a way that it fed her senses as well. Then there was the little detail that seeing her eat was not always a majestic sight. After all she didn't know what was on the plate and where. Blind people were well able to navigate the dinner table, but it had been barely fifteen months since she’d started to learn. Would he be able to cope with the sight?

And Andrea was well aware of her problems. Would she be living in constant fear of grossing him out when a bite fell of her fork again? Would she think she limits his life? What would happen if he didn't show up or didn't call?

* * *

He’d been the stadium announcer in Cologne for a long time, but he’d never been faced with a mystery like that. A clearly emotional secretary from the club office had called and told him that during the Saturday home game against Freiburg he’d meet a sixteen year old kid from Hannover with an announcement that was supposed to be read after the presentation of the teams.

Atze, as he was called by everyone from the youngest fan to the club president could not for the life of it imagine what such an announcement would be? The only remarkable thing about last week’s game had been its utter dullness - a lacklustre nil-nil between two clubs that were neither in contention for promotion nor threatened by relegation. It had been a complete non-event.

The door opened as the teams walked out onto the pitch. A young man walked in – frame-less glasses, well groomed, short spiky blond hair and a look on his face as if someone had pinched his girlfriend. He had planned to ask the boy what this was all about, but this 1,70-something metres, scrawny kid with his angry look intimidated him, although he didn't exactly feel like admitting it. After all he was a 1.90m wardrobe of a man.

The two club anthems had been played and Atze took his clue.

“Ladies and Gentleman, today he have a visitor from Hannover up here in the commentary box, so I will pass the microphone to...,” he looked at his paper. “Martin.”

Seemingly completely unmoved the kid took the microphone from him and spoke, completely without notes.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm Martin, sixteen years old, from Hannover. As you may remember, the home team played 96 in an away game last week. While the game was nothing to write home about, some fans of your club saw fit to assault and mug a seventeen year old blind girl at Hannover central station.”

Atze’s breath caught. The whole stadium went silent. Forty-nine thousand spectators frozen in speechlessness. The seasoned commentator noticed how his whole body started to shake. He’d been born and bred as an FC fan – he bled red and white. That someone of their boys would do something that outrageous... He was barely able to finish the thought.

“Witnesses say that the assailants bellowed the club anthem and wore full FCK fan kit,” the young man continued. “The case is with the federal police now. If you’re one of those... UTTER BASTARDS, who did that, I hope you are at least man enough to answer for what you did and turn yourself over to the police. You should find enough officers around here. I thought you should know. Enjoy your game.”

The commentator looked through tear-filled eyes as the young kid nodded, passed back the microphone and left without a further word.

Down on the pitch several players of the club were in tears, as were many spectators. The club’s Danish striker, one of the most expensive transfers in club history, appeared inconsolable and walked over to the team’s fan block. He ripped the shirt off his body and threw it to the ground in rage before the block. Abandoning the destroyed garment he walked off the pitch, crying helplessly.

Atze knew why. The team’s star player had a twelve-year old blind daughter.


End file.
